


Pretending

by emsallthat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Consensual Infidelity, Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Infidelity, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:56:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28818882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emsallthat/pseuds/emsallthat
Summary: A miniature about something that is neither ethical nor moral. But it is not forbidden in a way. So Hermione in a completely different version. Subtle but evocative language./ Translation from polish.
Kudos: 1





	Pretending

**Pretending**

* * *

Five fifty-five. June sun illuminates my face, waking me up. I lazily open my eyes and blink. I take a deep breath and turn to the side. I look ahead and smile. I reach out and stroke his cheek. I feel stubble under my fingers, and I gobble it. He woke up, I can see he's smiling. I bring my face closer, inhale his scent. It annoys me, but at the same time I want more and more. His smell is like a drug, it makes me addicted. He turns his head, finds my lips.

Our kisses have long given up to be innocent. They never really were. I break the kiss by licking my lips. We have to get up. Our time is up. We need tocome back to reality. Once again.

I get out of bed with great hesitation. Right outside the bathroom door, I turn to look at him. He smiles sleepily. He will sleep for a quarter of an hour, cuddled against the pillow while I shower. I'll wake him up mercilessly, and we'll be at odds again with time. We will collect things, give away the keys to the room and everyone will go their own way. I will show up at the Burrow, say hi, and be offered tea. I will agree, and at the kitchen door, I will smile and say good morning to the redhead man and his blonde partner. He will nod and answer me, even giving way to the table.

We'll pretend the morning didn't happen, that we haven't greeted each other yet. We will pretend from the very beginning to the very end.

* * *

Five fifty-five. The alarm clock rings bothersome, so I wake up and stretch. After get up, I am glancing at the calendar and say hello to a smile on my face. End of the school year. The beginning of the holidays. Freedom, freedom at last. I take a deep breath and feel like screaming my happiness. Everything is perfect. Perfect in every way. And the evening promises to be just as interesting. The last moments before my departure. I'm in London on time, and he's already waiting, slightly impatient. He comes to me, passes me, and I make a decision. We walk quickly, silently. But time pressure hangs over us, there is still not enough of it, not enough. We are nervous, our heart beats like an alarm. I don't speak, but I can see the expression on his face. It tells me what the words wouldn't say. In fact, words are unnecessary. They have always been. We give our bodies a voice, not our voice.

His kisses are delicate, even subtle. As if he was afraid of hurting me. Hands unsteady, but tender, hot. He whispers beautiful epithets in my ear, hugs me tightly, caresses me. He plays with the tongue, explores every part of my body. It irritates the skin by looking for sensitive points. It makes me lose myself in the pleasure of sensations. My senses are on fire, they want more and more. Lips seek relief. He has to make me his. Mark me. His breath burns, makes my blood rush in my veins. He gives me kisses like the most beautiful gifts on earth. His body fever seeps through mine. We are gradually becoming one. He is mine. I am his. Perfection of the moment. Just our two hearts, common rhythm. Farewell, choppy breaths, whispers straight into my ear. And silence, a racing pulse. Farewell.

End of summer. I knew he would be there. He missed me, I missed him. The longing is deep in our bodies, in our minds.

We are silent.

Thousands of unspoken words. He kisses them from my lips. He kisses tears, weaves hands into my hair, pulls them to him. He feels the heat of his body, a feeling so well known to me, so deeply remembered. Even engraved in memory, recorded. Rooted deep inside me.

We are silent.

Our breaths merge into one. We are one again. Our separation did us good.

We are rediscovering ourselves. Piece by piece. Inch by inch, slowly, carefully, passionately. Silently.

The storm passes between us, blurs longing, intensifies desire. He kisses me brutally, wildly. Completely different than then. He already knows he can't hurt me, quite the contrary. With decisive movements, he takes me into his arms, kisses me, kisses me until I'm breathless. Our movements are chaotic, our bodies thirst for closeness. We perfectly complement each other in this wild dance. Yin and yang. A woman and a man. The perfect combination.

We fall asleep, cuddled up to each other, overwhelmed with the awareness that we will have to get up in a moment. And we'll get up and everyone will go their own way. And we will pretend again. Just like in the beginning. As always. To the end. Irrevocably.


End file.
